


Absent Friends

by Not_You



Series: Watching [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Background Poly, Body Image, Dildos, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Post-Battle of New York (Marvel), Rough Kissing, Scars, Sex Toys, Size Kink, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 05:04:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3678654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick and Clint, waiting for Phil to wake up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absent Friends

The first time feels like cheating, but they don't know if Phil will ever wake up and Clint is going to lose it if he can't just stop thinking for a minute. It's the same for Fury, and that's how he ends up sprawled on his back over Fury's bed, because his own smells too much like Phil, fucking himself hard and slow on a giant fucking dildo. It belongs to Fury, and the thought of him split open on this fucking monster makes Clint moan as he struggles to take just another inch. He knows he would get more depth if it wasn't so thick, and whines at the huge stretch of it.

"That's right," Fury murmurs, shrouded in shadow at the foot of the bed. "Take it."

"W-w-working on it," Clint pants, kind of hating the way his voice wobbles as he forces it just a little deeper. "Ohgod. Fuck, sir..."

"Don't hurt yourself." Fury shifts a little, barely audible because he's not wearing his enormous, rustling coat.

"N-no, sir," Clint gasps, turning his head to the side and nuzzling into the sheet. It's freshly laundered and doesn't smell like anything but detergent, and he feels kind of cheated. He slides the dildo out a bit and then presses it in again, biting his lip and letting out a pathetic little whimpering noise. "Fffuuuck..."

"Barton..."

"No, no, it's cool," Clint gasps, "I just.." he cuts himself off with an actual squeak, eyes going huge as everything somehow clicks and lines up, letting the massive thing slip right in. All the lube Clint applied beforehand really gets a chance to start helping, and soon Clint is moaning and using the heel of his hand to rock the dildo deep into him, a slow back-and-forth that lets him stop worrying about Phil for these few minutes.

"Harder," Fury growls, and Clint groans and obeys.

"Jesus fuck, sir, feels like it'll come out my fucking mouth oh fuck..." Clint's voice is weak and thready as he pounds himself, feeling Fury's gaze like the phantom weight of sunlight. He rolls onto his belly and rises onto his knees, grunting a little with the effort of fucking himself as hard as he can at this odd angle. He whines, struggling to get it even deeper, stretched and stuffed and sore, wide open for Fury to look at. "Ohhh... oh, sir, sir, please help, please fuck me sir I need it harder..."

Fury growls, and Clint feels him settle onto the edge of the mattress, and then that big, gloved hand is settling over his own. For some reason Clint almost feels like crying. He's not alone anymore. Fury will take care of him. He buries his face in his forearms and wails into the mattress as Fury gives it to him hard and deep. He melts into it and zones out to the point that Fury has to tug at his jaw for a bit before he realizes he's supposed to raise his head. He does, and Fury thrusts two gloved fingers into his mouth, reaching for his throat and pushing his tongue down the way a cock would. Clint moans and sucks on them, nearly gagging himself. It's so good to be held between Fury's hands like this. So safe. It's a little like the time with the blindfold, and that makes him think of Phil again and suck Fury's fingers even deeper to force himself back into the moment. 

Fury is telling him how good he looks, how good he is at taking big cocks and how hard he's going to get it now. Clint whines and shudders as he starts to slam the dildo into him with unbearably long strokes, almost pulling it out on each retraction only to plunge as deep as he can get. Clint's cock fucking _aches_ , but Fury hasn't let him touch it yet. He's rock hard and wet enough to drip, and he can feel his cock twitching a little each time the dildo bottoms out. He moans around Fury's fingers and his eyes roll back in his head as they start fucking his mouth. Clint knots his hands up in the sheet, arching his spine and pushing his hips back, drooling as Fury grinds along his tongue.

When Fury finally touches him, it only takes about three strokes before Clint is coming, bucking and sobbing for breath and drooling a little. Fury slides his hand out of Clint's mouth and he collapses onto his belly, panting and quivering. He whimpers as Fury slides the dildo out of him. "Fuck," he mumbles into the sheet, and shudders again.

"Good boy," Fury says, his voice rusty and strange. He rests his hand on Clint's back for a long moment, and then gets up and takes the dildo into the bathroom, returning bare-handed and carrying a box of wet wipes. It's embarrassing to just lie here and let Fury clean him, but Clint really isn't sure he can move his legs right now. "Good?" Fury asks, and Clint nods.

"Y-yeah. You?"

"I'll take care of me."

"That sucks," Clint says, sitting up slowly as Fury props himself against the headboard. His naked hands are covered in burn scars, all gnarly and keloided, parts of them seared white. A few of his fingers are missing their tips. Phil had said that the gloves have padded fingertips, and Clint is honored to be allowed to see this proof of it. Fury hisses softly as he gets himself out of his boxers, squeezing his hard, scarred cock and biting his lip. Clint moans, crawling closer to watch. "Goddamn, you should let me touch you."

"No," Fury says, gritting his teeth and squeezing himself so hard, the way he always does.

"Goddamn, I love your cock," Clint says, sighing as he watches Fury brutalize himself, hips squirming as precome beads on the tip. "Can I kiss you, then?"

"Yes," he hisses, and groans into Clint's mouth, shuddering and moaning as Clint devours him. It's a rough, sloppy kiss, hungry and full of all the force and physical possessiveness he doesn't get to use on any other part of Fury's body. "Fuck, Barton," he breathes, leaning into it and shaking as Clint grabs fistfuls of his shirt at the shoulders.

"Come on me," Clint whispers, biting Fury's lip. "I want to feel you on me all hot and slick and _filthy_ , sir. I want it, I want it I want it--" Fury grunts, groans, and suddenly shifts to straddle Clint, bracing one hand on the headboard and coming all over Clint's belly. He moans and whimpers, "Sir, thank you, sir."

"Jesus, Barton." Fury sounds wrecked, and Clint grins up at him.

"You should come on my face next time."

Fury just curses some more, shifting off of Clint to lie down. Clint wipes off and joins him, cuddling into Fury's chest. He's very warm, and his turtleneck is very soft. Even if Phil doesn't make it, Clint still wants this. He's not sure how to say so, so he just holds on more tightly and tucks his head in under Fury's chin, sighing softly. Fury rubs his back with scarred palms, mumbling praise in between telling him what a deviant and pain in the ass he is, which just makes Clint laugh.


End file.
